


Eventually

by Ivyfics (ivyfics)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha Iwaizumi Hajime, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Omega Oikawa Tooru, Porn with Feelings, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 14:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16042640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyfics/pseuds/Ivyfics
Summary: Tooru is still freaking out, spurred on by Hajime’s silence. He’s babbling and blushing and fuck, he’s so cute. The feeling rises inside him as fast as his lip curls in a feral smile.Sweet, sweet Tooru. Hajime is going to eat him alive. He’s going todevourhim.Iwa takes care of Tooru.





	Eventually

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caelestisxyz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelestisxyz/gifts).



> This is a commission for the amazing [ Caelestisxyz ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caelestisxyz/pseuds/caelestisxyz) who has been super patient<3
> 
> A shoutout to the lovely [Xladysaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xladysaya/pseuds/xladysaya) for looking this over and helping me make it coherent!

Warmth seeps through the porcelain of the cup Hajime is holding. His tea is still a bit too hot, but he’s never had a knack for getting the temp of it just right. Always too hot, always having to wait until it’s cooled enough that he won’t burn his tongue on it.

Tooru is the opposite. His tea isn’t hot enough to steep properly so all you’re left with is bitter lukewarm leaf juice.

Until they find their kettle in the chaos of bubble wrap and cardboard stranded around their living room, leaf juice it is. Tooru’s back is to him, conveniently bending over to rummage around for the box containing their cushions, the ones they use to decorate. It’s cold out, autumn creeping over them slowly. Tooru prances around with some shorts and no shirt on, already feeling the initial effects of his heat.

It’ll start either today or tomorrow and they’ve already agreed on letting everything else unpacking-and-organizing related rest for the time being, except for the nesting room. Tooru searches for more fluff to add to his nest, letting his already short shorts stretch with the bend of his body and Hajime stares, long and hard.

One, because he’s got a feeling he’ll always be staring at Tooru’s ass whenever the opportunity arises, but also because he can.

Anyone would tell you it took them entirely way too long to get here. It’s been mere months since they’ve stopped dicking around, admitted that all they wanted was to be with each other and bonded. Compared to the decades of companionship, the couple of years they spent messing around is a rather small but tumultuous blip on their radar.

Still, no matter how much of a bumpy ride it has been, nothing beats the warm spots of a body sleeping next to his, or the way the morning sun hits the very edges of Tooru’s hair, lighting it in soft fire and haloing his lax, drooling face.  

He dwells on this particular morning when he awoke to Tooru’s hair buried in his chest and his scent around them. It spurs him to find the one thing he’s kept a secret for the past month. He gets up quietly, as to not disturb Tooru and his subdued manic search through the remaining boxes that litter their living room. He finds what he’s looking for in the linen closet that he conveniently unpacked yesterday and brings it back to the room, setting it down gently in front of him.  

“Hey,” he says, to catch Tooru’s attention, and pushes the box until it lays at his feet. There’s a gap for Tooru to close between them if he’ll accept them. It’s a huge ass box, the corner of  the left flap ripped from Hajime’s overzealous hands. Neither of them is little by any means, so it’s a lot of fabric to make Tooru’s nest as sizeable as he wants.

They’re fresh from the cleaners, smelling like neutralizer. He didn’t scent them, no matter how tempted he was to make them smell so much like himself that there’s no mistaking who the omega using them wanted in their nest, but that’s not really how things are done. That comes after— _if_ —Tooru accepts them.

Hajime clears his throat, the gigantic rock that has settled in the middle of it making it hard for him to swallow properly. There’s a tugging on his collar and a mild pounding in his heart. He’s—well, he’s a little embarrassed.

It’s his first time providing nesting materials. They did everything backwards. Sure, he’s had his shirts (his sweaty club jersey, more often than not) stuck somewhere in Tooru’s nest for enough heats for it to be the norm. Even more than that, he guesses, if Tooru’s flustered recount of stealing his items way before Hajime ever realised is accurate. In a roundabout way, they were the catalyst for the wild, painful ride that followed.

It was a span of merely hours, from catching a red-handed, flushed-faced Tooru in the cusp of heat delving through his worn items for his nest, to offering a bag of clothes without explanation, all the way to finding himself _inside_ the nest fucking Tooru’s brains out. It all happened so fast.

If you happened to be a person who did things normally, then you’d know there’s an order to these things, but _no_ , they had to go all-in from the start.

He was Tooru’s best friend, his partner. Why shouldn’t he help with Tooru’s heats when they got so bad and he was on his own? Why shouldn’t Tooru keep him sane during his rut? A couple of best friends, helping each other out through their cycles, that’s all.

Nevermind that Hajime never went back on suppressants, not after that first time. Absolute bullshit, but that’s what they went with.

The point of this is they really haven’t courted _per se_ up until now and they deserve some ceremony to the whole thing. A little proper order to start out their life together, officially. If that means Hajime has to offer nesting materials up for inspection like some old-school husband because it’s the only thing that’s left then he’s going to do it. He’s going to kick ‘providing nesting materials’ in the ass.

Tooru hasn’t asked for much in their time together, but Hajime knows that beyond that independent figure and the strength he tries so hard to project, Tooru has a soft spot for formal things like this. The pit in Hajime’s gut bubbles, lacing nerves with a surge of excitement at Tooru’s response.

Standing in front of him, Tooru’s mouth is a tiny circle, opening up and closing like a fish. He bends down slowly and lets his fingers flit over the fabric, shy. He lets his fingers, ever so graceful, grip an edge of the ivory comforter and pull it up to inspect it closer.

Tooru’s eyes ping up to meet Hajime’s, his mouth pinching with things he has to say before his eyes are buried back in the ocean of fabrics Hajime crammed in the box.

He can’t help but frown at Tooru’s reaction, a little disappointed. “What?”

“Could you—uhm.” Tooru isn’t looking at him, which is always a bad sign. His gaze is directed at his hands and at how he clutches the soft white fabric tightly, holding it against himself. It’s unnerving, the feeling that comes over Hajime when he looks at Tooru—at his best friend, the love of his life, his omega— so withdrawn, so _unsure_.

He knows Tooru like he knows his own reflection; this is Tooru gathering his strength, building himself up. Faintly, he can see it in the set of his shoulders. The ghost of a Tooru scraping every bit of courage to tell him that four days of fucking their feelings into each other every other month wasn’t enough. That he needed more.

It telegraphs in how every breath is deep and even, scent controlled. Hajime doesn’t want controlled. He wants Tooru to go crazy. He wants a neurotic over-the-top mess, one that moans and complains about how the fabrics aren’t soft enough, or not the right texture, or that the blinds are too bright, one that demands things because he knows Hajime will come through and make them happen. He wants a Tooru that feels safe enough to be free and not have enough time or energy to reign in his scent and his emotions because he’s too fucking happy.

Hajime wants to be the one to make that happen.

He’s three-fourths of a second away from opening his mouth and saying something—anything—to make that expression stop.

Tooru beats him to it.

 “It should be _ours_ , now.”

_Oh._

Before, he’s waited. Patiently waited a room away until Tooru took care of it. He’d pace around and pretend he wasn’t eager about getting in but now, now, Tooru wants them to build it together, a nest equally theirs.

Tooru tries covering it up immediately with some bravado— _“Iwa-chan always makes me do all the hard work around here,  you should pitch in sometimes”—_ but Hajime can feel the slight rawness of his words. It fills him with that tightness in his chest he knows to connect to Tooru’s vulnerability, to being allowed to share someone stripped bare of pretenses.

This is big. It’s amazing.

Anyone would tell you, it took them entirely way too long to get here but, by god and every other being that rules the universe, there is nowhere else they were meant to end up. Together. In a home of their own. In _their_ nest.  

Tooru is still freaking out, spurred on by Hajime’s silence. He’s babbling and blushing and fuck, he’s so cute. The feeling rises inside him as fast as his lip curls in a feral smile.

Sweet, sweet Tooru. Hajime is going to eat him alive. He’s going to _devour_ him.

He’s gonna do better, until there isn’t a time where Tooru has to wonder. He’s going to start immediately.

Instead of answering straight out and saying something mortifying like _I can’t imagine a me without you anymore_ or _I’d give up my soul for a chance at this_ , Hajime steps up and steals a kiss. He hopes it conveys the swirl of emotions his body is experiencing, the depth of how it feels to be Tooru’s first and only choice. Pulse racing, he drinks Tooru in against him. He’s soft, eagerly taking what Hajime is trying to give, his warmth curling around Hajime’s body and fusing them together. It devolves to something hungry, unchaste.

“Here?” Tooru asks.

“Right here.”

“The bed is–”

Set up already, yes. They’re gonna break that in soon. In this moment Hajime wants to make a mess. He tips the box with the sheets over with a kick. They sprawl on the ground, a beacon to what Hajime is planning. “They don’t smell like us. We should change that.”

He sells Tooru on it with a nibble to that spot just south of his ear that makes him melt. Hajime lines up with it naturally when they’re close, taking advantage of it and trailing kisses from it to the base of Tooru’s neck where his scent glands are.

They’re not all that swollen yet, just a soft version of the cherry red they get after Hajime’s been sucking and nipping them for days. He’s always tempted to lay his teeth on them until they pierce and bleed, another mark on the unscarred side of Tooru’s neck, a testament to Hajime’s bond upon his skin, of his devotion. When the possessive side of him rears its persistent head he imagines laying his mark on every gland on Tooru’s body: the ones on his neck, his wrists, the inside of his thighs that swell and perfume the air around him with need when Tooru’s heat really gets going to keep his alpha at his beck and call.

Not that he needs them.

Hajime’s been wrapped around Tooru’s finger the second they were born.

Tooru is putty in his hands, for once. Nowhere to be found is that naughty omega of his that likes to tease and rile Hajime up until he’s being slammed and fucked against the nearest surface.

By the time Hajime is done with him there’s drool and slick and cum cooling on the sheets. It is decidedly gross—even Hajime can rationally understand that, but the flare of alpha inside of him loves it, and no matter how many times Tooru washes them when his heat fades and his need for cleanliness overpowers his instincts, right now this is all they need. He plasters himself to Tooru’s back in the middle of their living room, leaving no expanse of sweaty skin untouched, drifting to sleep for a little on the array of fabrics.

Tooru needs him rested for what’s coming.

* * *

 

After an hour or two Hajime wakes to Tooru patting his cheek too hard in his excitement. It’s more of a slap, really. The room smells of them, and sex, and the saccharine undertone of Tooru’s heat.

Hajime stretches languidly, taking his time purely to mess with his mate before he gets to his feet and throws Tooru over his shoulder to take him to the nesting room. It’s a not so small room at the end of the hall, big enough for the queen size mattress that wafts a faint smell of the plastic it came delivered in, even after they set the brand new heat guard on top.

The nesting room was a selling point in them getting this place. Tooru didn’t say anything but the way his eyes lit up at the skylight flooding the room with sun had Hajime’s heart set on the place instantly. He hates the countertops and there’s this one window that rubs him the wrong way still, but none of that matters in face of Tooru’s pleased scent when walking by the open door where his nest will be now.  

He dumps Tooru on the mattress, going back for the sheets stained with them. They smell like dessert, a mix of the milky sweetness that is Tooru’s heat, along the flash of mint that permeates his scent year-round, and the heavier chocolate of Hajime’s alpha scent. The scent, along with the hint of Tooru’s heat leftover on his skin from carrying him, pulls Hajime along into a lull, a low rumble surfacing in his chest. They used to make fun of him for his scent when he first presented, but his and Tooru’s go together like nothing else and that’s what counts.  It’s that scent that is going to surround them for the days to come, that will keep Tooru happy and make the nest feel like it belongs.

It hits him then, really hits him, as he watches Tooru grab at the sheets and start building as soon as he brings them over.  An itch crawls through his hands, to move, to arrange, to make sure it’s sturdy and safe. _Their_ nest, now.   

“This is our den,” he says, awed.

The smile Tooru flashes at him makes his face crinkle around the eyes and his nose scrunch up with joy. “Yeah.”

Hajime has never done this before but the itching running through his limbs intensifies the more he sees Tooru weave and push and pad the borders of their nest. He tries, truly, and follows his omega’s experienced hands while they lead him through the work of building together.

They finish just in time to mess up their hard work when a shock of arousal runs through Tooru and leaves him ass up and knees shaking for Hajime to take.

* * *

 

They usually have more time between waves. It’s a song they’ve danced before, rhythm familiar and full of comfort even before they were officially each other’s. For all they clowned around _that_ fact, they have this down to a tee.

Sometimes, when it hits too hard and too fast, Tooru gets squirmy. Too restless and impatient to let Hajime do his fucking job and plunge his cock into Tooru until he’s panting, soft and beautiful on his knot. Tooru can’t help it, not with how swiftly it hit. Hips bucking around paired with desperate mewls and shiny slick framing his thighs, Tooru calls out to him.

There’s a certain kind of pleasure in the way Hajime sinks his hand into Tooru’s sweaty hair and fists his grip, yanking him back, curving his spine and placing him just right so that Hajime can bite into his scruff and growl him still. Tooru goes boneless with a sigh, neck arched beautifully where Hajime’s teeth sink in and leave a fresh red mark to accompany the one that scars his gland.

“Easy.” Hajime kisses Tooru’s gland, something hot and molten running through him at the sight of the omega— _his_ omega—pliant and ready, trusting Hajime with his body and his well being. Trusting that he can let go and be so vulnerable, and that Hajime will take care of him when he’s dazed and slick and wanting.

“Hajime,” Tooru keens, searching still. Part of him fights it. It’s the part of him Hajime admires, the one that doesn’t give up, the one that wants to do everything—be everything, and more.

“I’m here. Let go, Tooru,” he croons into the crook of Tooru’s neck.

Tooru falls and Hajime lets him. He sinks into the sheets of their nest, pillows his head in their scent and lets it drag him deeper into a purr when Hajime’s fingers run through the slick coating the inside of his thigh and rubs two fingers at his entrance. Tooru is still wet and open from before, getting slicker by the second, but the desperation is momentarily subdued so Hajime is going to ease them into it.

They don’t get a lot of chances for calm when Tooru’s heat comes around.

It won’t stay that way for long, not with how Tooru’s scent is rising up again and draping around Hajime so that he’s shakier, hotter and harder. Hajime gets a grip on it. This is not about him, it’s about Tooru, about sating him and leaving him so fucked out he has no other option than to sleep and rest until he’s up and raring to go again.

He did say he was going to devour Tooru, starting with the slick that dribbles out of him between Hajime’s fingers. The taste of Tooru on his tongue when Hajime’s fingers meet his mouth is divine. He takes his lips straight to the source and gets the most gorgeous keen out of Tooru’s throat.

Sweet and heady, every drop of slick is lighter fluid rushing through Hajime’s insides until his brain is nothing but fire and heat. Spreading his cheeks, Hajime delves in with ravenous hunger, tongue-fucking him and sucking at the stretched out rim until Tooru is close to tears again. Hajime hooks boths thumbs to stretch Tooru’s hole and he can’t help but bury himself inch by inch into his heat.

Hajime goes slow and hard, pushing Tooru down so that he’s flat against the sheets, his leaking cock trapped against the soft fabrics and marking their nest with his scent more and more. Hajime wants them to drown in it, and the smell of his cum when it eventually leaks out of Tooru’s used hole. Every thrust earns him a moan, the harder his hips crash against Tooru’s ass the more choked out they come until they’re nothing but a hard exhale of air.

Nothing sounds better than the half-ended attempts of his name leaving Tooru’s lips, pitch climbing higher when Hajime’s teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulders. Tooru is going to leave this heat marked all over, teeth, bruises, and claws printed all over his skin reminding him that he’s loved and claimed and always going to be fucked until he’s full. That there’s nothing he might want that Hajime won’t give to him, whether it be his time, his heart, their nest, or his cock.

Hajime grips the sheets underneath him until they rip and jerks his cock down on Tooru hard, keeping it there for a moment before doing it again, and again, until he’s pressing on Tooru’s back with his weight and feeling how Tooru clenches around him.  

Tooru melts into it. He works his hole around Hajime’s girth, feeling him.

“Hajime! _Hajime! Alpha!_ ”

Tooru used to call him _alpha_ , used to moan it against his skin, used it to seduce him and get him rough when they were still pretending that this wasn’t forever. Cries of _alpha, fuck me, alpha please, knot me, more._

It drove him Hajime mad.

It was as if he were calling out for a body— _any_ body—to ease the burning inside him. As if Hajime was the most convenient knot around so he’d do. Now it goes straight to his cock because he knows it’s Tooru’s omega calling out to his other half, an anchor to remind himself that Hajime is his. That even when he had plenty of offers for those who wanted to warm his bed, he turned down everyone with a single glance at Hajime. His omega knew there was no one else that would ever carry him through his heat as good as Hajime’s alpha does.

There’s only so long Tooru can cling to the grind before he’s trying to cant his hips higher, his hole asking for more. A glob of slick flows past his cock, down Tooru’ thigh. Hajime’s gut spasms and it’s impossible for him to not growl against Tooru’s ear. “So fucking good, Tooru, so wet. Perfect omega.”

Sweat runs down the pale column of Tooru neck, shiny and flexing when his adam’s apple bobs with every aborted sound that tries to escape him. It’s a drug, and Hajime follows every drop with his tongue like the addict he is, parched and feral for his current fix. He latches on to Tooru’s neck with his teeth—careful, always careful— to not bite too hard for it to cause any damage to his gland, just enough to get another round of slick pouring out of Tooru’s hole.

Hajime fucks him deep and slow, spreading his cheeks to see how the pink rim stretches around his girth, slick leaking and making a mess of everything. Hajime is so close to coming. His balls are getting tight, there’s this slow fire building in his gut, getting heavier every time Tooru’s rim stretches over the head of his cock to the base of his knot. The thick of it swells, one last push plunging it fully inside. Tooru comes, again, milking the cum frothing around Hajime’s knot where he’s working it in small thrusts as much as he can.

There’s no space between where Tooru ends and Hajime begins when he thrusts deep and comes, knot giving one last push at swelling. Tooru’s moan is a ripple that shakes him from head to toe, loud and pleased, voice wavering as much as his muscles shiver from exertion. Limp, his form sprawls face-down on the nest.

His omega isn’t frail, but Hajime is heavy and he doesn’t want to put any more strain on him than taking a knot almost as big as his fist does. Hajime makes to arrange them so he can curl around Tooru’s frame but Tooru wraps his hands around where Hajime’s brace his weight on his biceps. He pulls, once. “Stay.”

When Hajime doesn’t budge an inch, he whines and pulls harder, sharp and pointy claws stabbing into Hajime’s flesh until he yields and lays his full weight on top of Tooru.

“I’m crushing you.”

Tooru purrs. “Love it when you’re above me. Feels good. Safe,” Tooru slurs, hair nuzzling against whatever part of Hajime he can reach.

He—somehow—manages to have them lay comfortably after Tooru’s had his fill of being crushed by his alpha's weight. The fact the new position lets Tooru tug and cant his hips on the knot until he’s coming again is pure coincidence.

* * *

 

The second time Hajime’s eyes open, his omega is already up and bouncing on his cock. His knot is half-formed, that with not being fully awake, but it throbs painfully with arousal the second he’s conscious. It rips a growl from deep in his chest and he has to brace himself on the sheets to not ram all of himself, half knot and all, inside Tooru. His claws rip through the sheets, down to the heat guard.

“Haji-ah—Sorry, I— _hah_ —” Tooru tries. Canting his hips higher, he takes more of Hajime’s cock into himself. Deep red stains his glands, heat painting the rest of  him a rosy pink up to the tips of his ears. The glint in his eyes is madness and glee. Half of this is heat, the other is Tooru’s teasing streak. He’s let himself be taken by the tide of the fervour rising inside him, and he’s taken Hajime along for the ride.

Heat permeates the room, thick on Hajime’s tongue, clouding his vision. Hajime’s words clog in his throat, enthralled by the wave of  Tooru’s hipbones, by the rivulet of wet that weeps from Tooru’s cock onto Hajime’s belly. On the third try he croaks, “Take what you need, Tooru. As much as you want.”

He’d bleed himself dry if his mate so much as flashed him the smile that grows on his face for a second. Hajime’s chest tightens and his dick twitches hard enough to have Tooru moan out his name. The need to buck up and take control lurks as a shadow in the back of his mind, his alpha begging for him to take their pretty omega and pound him until he’s out of his mind.

Hajime revels in Tooru taking his own pleasure, and he settles for grasping one of his hands on Tooru’s hips for stability and hanging on for the ride. Tooru’s thighs slap Hajime’s hip with force, leaving redness where skin meets skin. Tooru’s hands grip Hajime’s knees harder, making him bleed just a tad with his need to grip. He bounces, fast and chaotic, until he’s coming with a guttural sound deep in his chest. Tooru grinds, riding the waves out until he stills, chest speckled in white.

Hajime’s fingers run through the white streaks covering them both, steeping his skin in the smell. Lines of white run the length of Tooru’s chest as Hajime’s hands spread his own spend. It mixes with the sweat on Tooru’s skin and the oil from his glands to make him reek of claimed omega.

Hajime chuffs at the sigh, bringing whatever is left on his hand to his tongue. “Delicious.”

Tooru got his cake and ate it too, going by the look on his face. Gone is the edge of wildness to his gaze, his release bringing clarity instead. Slender fingers with sharp tips feel around the swollen, puffy rim of his where they’re joined, Hajime’s knot barely kissing Tooru’s entrance. He traces around the connection idly, barely touching.

“Your knot,” Tooru purrs,“fuck it into me.”

There’s never going to be a time where Hajime doesn’t rise up to the challenge, not when the challenge is issued so boldly, when he feels the weight of it in his bones.

Hajime snaps. He flips them over easy, letting his alpha do as he pleases. Tooru is flat on his back with his knees to his collarbone faster than he can gather his wits. Hajime doesn’t tease him, cause that’s what his rut is for. He goes for gold, fucking as hard as he can, letting his knot do the work of satisfying his omega.

It goes on forever. The heat rises and they burn with it until there’s nothing else left to give, until Tooru is coming dry and covered chin to hip with his own cum and slick. He smells like dessert, sugary sweet with a dash of mint and chocolate.  

Hajime eats him alive.

* * *

 

“Hajime, where the fuck did you go?”

His keys clink, hitting the side of the bowl Tooru’s mom got them for their place. Tooru is bundled up in the couch, one of the blankets of their nest draped around his shoulders. Heat scent is strong enough to filter just the tiniest bit through the door, past the vents Hajime placed there right before he left.

Raising his arm high, he shows off the white plastic bag hanging from his arm. “To get your horny ass some greasy food.”

Tooru’s eyes sparkle and he holds our grabby hands. “Gimme.”

Hajime chuckles, dropping the containers straight into Tooru’s lap, and leaves a kiss on his messy hair. Tooru wastes no time ripping into them, moaning when he swallows down the first bite. He’s not going to lie and say that his alpha instincts aren’t enjoying the show. Seeing Tooru  thoroughly ravished and limber, stuffing his face with food Hajime provided.

It bleeds the tension out of his shoulders. He hates having to douse himself in neutralizer but there was no going out in public with how obscene he smelled, all sex and heat. He compromised by putting on his heaviest coat and dousing that with the spray instead, but in return now he’s sweaty and grosser than when he left.

Tooru looks up at him, his head in a tilt, and Hajime melts beside him. He watches Tooru eat in silence while he recharges. Tooru isn’t a picky eater per se, but he does pick around both plates before eating anything. Hajime will eat whatever he leaves, exhausted after having to deal with other humans and being civil while coming out of a heat high.

Tangling his fingers in the stray curls that rest on Tooru’s nape helps drag him back into the moment. It takes about ten minutes or so of that before he asks, “How’re you feeling?”

“Good. Great,” Tooru answers between bites. “I was thinking! I need to go shopping now.”

Hajime only hums, too content to answer.

“Really. The only sheets we have are the ones you picked. That’s not fair, I want to pick some—Iwa-chan! Are you listening to me?”

He is but he isn’t. Tooru looks happy, and excited, and he smells of all those things and Hajime. It’s what he wants for the love of his life. Hajime interrupts Tooru’s next pout by dipping his head and capturing his lips. He gets a kiss that tastes like greasy food and warmth.

It starts as fondness but deepens into something more when Tooru’s scent rises up to meet him.

Tooru pulls away the smallest bit. His eyes are liquid, filled with fire that has nothing to do with heat and all with love and Tooru being a needy slut for his alpha’s cock. Blinking slow and wetting his lips he says, “Hey, fuck me later?”

There’s a smear near his chin, his hair is going thirteen different directions and he’s wearing one of Hajime’s dirty shirts he pulled out of a hamper. Hajime is half-sure he used it to clean up their cum when he wore it last.

He’s everything Hajime wants.

It took them way too long to get here but, eventually, they got it right.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell with me over at [my twitter](https://twitter.com/ivyfics)


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